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Cera Dahlman
History Origin Innately connected to the latent power of the void, Cera is a kitsune who can reshape magic and space into raw energy. She revels in toying with her prey by manipulating their emotions before devouring their life essence. Despite her predatory nature, Cera retains a sense of empathy as she receives flashes of memory from each soul she consumes.. Abandoned in the snowy woods of the north, Cera knew nothing of her original family save the token they left her: a pair of matching gemstones. She joined a pack of icefoxes as they stalked prey on their morning hunt, and before long they adopted her as one of their own. With no one to teach her the magic of her kind, Cera instinctively learned to draw it from the space around her, shaping destructive spheres and quickening her reflexes to take down prey. If she was close enough, she could even soothe a deer into a state of tranquility, so much that it remained serene even as she sank her teeth into its flesh.. '' ''Cera first encountered humans when a troop of foreign soldiers camped near her den. Their behaviors were strange to Cera and, curious to learn more, she watched them from afar. She was especially drawn to a hunter who, unlike his wasteful companions, used every part of the animals he killed, reminding her of her kitsune family. '' ''When the hunter was wounded by an arrow, Cera felt his life seeping away. She instinctively devoured the essence leaving his body, and gained brief flashes of his memories—the lover he had lost in battle, his children from a strange land of iron and stone. She found she could push his emotions from fear to sorrow to joy, and charmed him with visions of a sun-soaked meadow as he died. Euphoric at the rush of absorbing the hunter’s life, Cera felt more alive than ever, and traveled around in search of more victims. She relished toying with her prey, shifting their emotions before consuming their life essence. She alternated between dazzling them with visions of beauty, hallucinations of deep longing, and occasionally dreams colored by raw sorrow. She grew drunk with memories that were not her own, and exhilarated in the lives of others. Through stolen visions, Cera watched through their eyes as they pledged fealty to a temple of shadow, sacrificed offerings to a deity of the sun incarnate, encountered an avian tribe that spoke only in song, and glimpsed mountainous landscapes unlike any she had seen. She experienced heartbreak and elation in tantalizing flashes that left her craving more, and wept at the massacres of villagers at the hands of invaders. Cera was surprised when the memories led her to discover the tale of an unearthly fox demon. As she absorbed more life essence, she grew to identify more and more with her victims, and felt guilty at ending so many lives. She feared that the myths about her were true—she was no more than a cruel monster....Cera tested her self-control by consuming small quantities of life essence, enough to absorb a memory or two but not enough to kill. She was successful, for a time, but was tortured by her unending hunger and soon succumbed to temptation, indulging in the dreams of an entire coastal village. Tormented by her mistake, Cera could not forgive herself and felt a deep sorrow that forced her to question her own existence. She withdrew to the forest caves, isolating herself in hopes of controlling her relentless desire. Years later she emerged, determined to experience every facet of life through her own eyes. Though she might indulge in occasional essence, she resisted consuming entire lives. With the twin gemstones as the only clue to her origin, Cera set out in search of others like her. No more would she rely on borrowed memories and unfamiliar dreams. Short Story - Show & Tell The market smelled of burning incense and rotting cabbage. Cera wrapped her cloak around her tails and fiddled with her twin sunstone tokens to distract herself from the stench, rolling them between her fingers and snapping them together. Each one had the shape of a blazing flame, but they were carved in such a way that their sharper edges fit together, forming a perfectly smooth orb. She had carried the golden stones since before she could remember, though she had no knowledge of their origin. Though Cera was in a new environment, she was comforted by the latent magic buzzing all around her. She passed a stand with dozens of woven baskets filled to the brim with polished rocks, shells etched with legends from a seafaring tribe, gambling dice carved from bones, and other curious items. Nothing matched the style of Cera’s sculpted tokens. '' ''“Care for a gem to match the blue of the skies?” asked the gray-bearded merchant. “For you, I’ll trade a cerulean bauble for the cost of a single cryraven feather, or perhaps the seed of a jubji tree. I’m flexible.” Cera smiled at him, but shook her head and continued through the market, sunstones in hand. She passed a stand covered in spiky orange vegetables, a child selling fruit that shifted color with the weather, and at least three peddlers swinging tins of incense, each of whom claimed to have discovered the deepest form of meditation. “Fortunes! Come get your fortunes told!” called a young woman with lavender eyes and a soft jawline. “Find out who you’ll fall in love with, or how to avoid unlucky situations with a pinch of burdock root. Or if you’d prefer your future left to the gods, I’ll answer a question about your past. Though I do recommend finding out whether or not you’re at risk for death by poisoning.” A tall man with feline ears was about to take a bite of a spiced pastry. He froze and stared at the fortune teller in alarm. “The answer is no, by the way. Yours for free,” she said, curtsying at him before turning to Cera. “Now, you look like you’ve had a dark and mysterious past. Or at least some tales worth sharing. Any burning questions for me, lady?” Beneath heavy layers of incense, Cera paused at the scent of wet fur and spiced leather lingering at the woman’s neck. “Thank you, but no,” Cera replied. “I’m still looking around.” “You won’t find any more Dahlman tokens in this market, I’m afraid,” the woman said, nodding to Cera’s sunstones. “Like the ones you have.” The back of Cera’s neck prickled and she drew closer to the woman. She would not let her excitement get the better of her. “Do you recognize these? Where do they come from?” The woman eyed Cera. “I think they’re Rennek Dahlman, anyway,” she said. “Never seen a pair in person. He only carved a small number in his time, and many of the sets were separated in the war. Dead rare, those.”. Cera leaned closer with each word. “I’m Xaira, by the way,” the woman said. “Do you know where I might find this craftsman?” Cera asked. Xaira laughed. “No idea. But if you come in I’ll tell you what I know.” Cera wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and eagerly followed the fortune teller past her booth, and into a caravan decorated wall to wall with animal skins. “Tea?” Xaira said. “I brewed it this morning.” She poured two cups of liquid the color of plum wine, taking one for herself. The tea tasted of bitter oak bark, masked by a cloying dollop of honey. Xaira held out a hand for the stones but Cera kept them close. “I’m getting the sense that these are special to you,” she said with a wry smile. “Don’t worry, I have no interest in peddling stolen sunstones. Bad for a girl’s reputation.” “Can you tell me where they come from?” asked Cera, handing them over gingerly. Xaira held them up to the light. “These are beautiful,” she said. “I don’t know how they fit together so perfectly. I’ve not seen the like.” Cera said nothing. She stood frozen with curiosity, and did not take her eyes off the woman. “Legend says the sculptor known as Rennek collected fossilized lizard eggs from a thousand thousand years ago that he carved into intricate shapes. These ancient lizards lived long before the Sea dried up to a desert, leaving only petrified bones and dust.” Xaira coughed, and Cera detected a bitter note upon her breath, as if she had been drinking vinegar. “Dahlman stones are designed as small pieces that fit into a larger sculpture,” she continued. The woman dangled the golden pieces in front of Cera’s face. “Just as your past has left you with information to be desired, these stones may have many more parts that, when combined, create another shape altogether. Who knows what you’ll become when you track down your history. With the missing pieces, you may learn more than you’d like.” “Those are pretty words,” Cera murmured, staring at the woman. After a moment of silence, Xaira chuckled. “Some threads of truth, threads of my own invention. A fortune teller’s weaving must be seamless.” The woman retrieved a hunter’s knife from a cabinet. “I weave in just enough of what you desire to make you stay,” she said. “’Til the tea slows your muscles, that is.” A low growl escaped Cera’s lips. She would tear this woman apart. She tried to pounce, but her limbs did not obey. She was rooted in place. “Oh, there’s no need for that, lady. I only need a single tail. Useful for a variety of potions, you see, and extremely valuable. Or so I think. Never seen a Kitsune before. The tea freezes any pain, along with your… mobility.” Xaira wrapped a bandage around one of Cera’s tails. Cera tried to resist, but she still could not move. “You’ll wake up tomorrow, good as new!” said the woman. “Well, with one less tail. Do you really use all nine?” Cera shut her eyes and reached out to the reservoirs of magic around her. The environment had plenty ripe for the taking, but she was too weakened by the tea to draw them to her. Instead she reached into Xaira’s mind, which was far more malleable, and pushed. Cera opened her eyes and stared hard into Xaira’s. They deepened from lavender to violet. “Xaira,” she said. “Come closer. I would look into the face of the one who tricked me.” “Of course, lady,” Xaira replied, transfixed. The woman’s voice sounded hollow, as though it came from the bottom of a well. She leaned in until her face was only inches away. Cera inhaled, drawing essences of the woman’s life from her breath. ...Xaira was a young girl hiding, hungry and afraid, beneath a market stall. Two men argued above, looking for her. She had nothing but empty coffers to show for her days’ work... Cera continued to drain Xaira’s life, sampling memories of raw emotion. They felt rich in Xaira’s mouth, and she relished each unique flavor of emotion. ...Xaira told the fortune of a witch doctor shrouded in veils, receiving a copper for her troubles. She used the coin to buy a piece of bread, which she devoured in seconds… ...In a seedy tavern, a raucous group played cards. A man with eyebrows resembling butterfly wings gambled a golden Dahlman stone while Xaira watched from the shadows… ...Xaira tracked Cera as she walked through the market. One of her fox tails peeked from beneath her cloak. She drew the Kitsune into her caravan— Enough. Cera stopped, her head spinning with renewed vigor. With each memory she stole from Xaira, she felt energy rush back into her weakened muscles, cleansing them of the poison. Strengthened once more, she slowly shook her limbs awake, and flexed her tails with a shiver. They tingled with pinpricks. Xaira stood wide-eyed and dazed, still very much alive. It was she that would wake tomorrow, good as new—less a few memories that she would not miss. With knowledge of the woman’s life, Cera’s rage had faded. She brushed her hand against the fortune teller’s cheek, then wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders and stepped out into the sunlit market. Xaira would not remember her, or their encounter. But Cera had left the trade with a name to hunt—Rennek—and the image of the man with soft-winged eyebrows was burned in her mind.